


I Love You Like The Sun Came Out

by keanubot



Category: Actor RPF, Keanu Reeves - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Resolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keanubot/pseuds/keanubot
Summary: As an aspiring actress who's more than a little down on your luck, you decide to apply for a housekeeping position at the house of a famous actor. The actor in question is Keanu Reeves, and you have no idea what you're getting yourself into.





	1. Start of Time

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also posting this on [tumblr](https://keanubot.tumblr.com), so feel free to follow me over there for updates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "start of time" by gabrielle aplin

“You got the job!”

Anybody else would be more than happy to hear those words, overjoyed in fact. But hearing them does almost nothing for you, your lips pressed together in a tight line as you nod at nobody in particular with your cell phone against your ear. You inhale deeply through your nose, processing the words of the woman on the other end before saying quite calmly:

“Awesome, when do I start?”

Maybe you’re overexaggerating just a little bit; a job is good, it’s always good. A steady income, stability, a routine, all that jazz. It’s not that you hate working, it’s not like you didn’t apply for this job in the hopes that you’d get it, but still…it’s disappointing.

Because being a housekeeper for a celebrity is certainly not how you thought your life in Hollywood was gonna go.

“He’d like you to start tomorrow. He won’t be back for about a month or so but he wanted you to get acquainted with the house, figure out where everything is, water the plants, that sort of thing.”

You nod again, absentmindedly tapping your knee with your index finger, “Is there a schedule I should follow?”

“He sent me a basic list of things he needs done, but he’d like you to make your own hours. However, while he’s gone he will need you to come in to feed the fish.”

You raise an eyebrow, “The fish?”

“Yes, he has a koi pond with about a dozen of them; the gardener has been feeding them lately but it’s not in his job description to stop by every day. That’s the housekeeper’s job.” The woman laughs, “ _Your_  job, I should say.”

You laugh along with her, wondering if she can tell you’re faking it.  _Yep, that’s me: the housekeeper. That’s all I’ll ever be good for out here, apparently._

“I’ll meet you at the house tomorrow morning at eight o’clock to give you the keys and answer any other questions you might have,” the woman continues. You know her name, you even met her in a formal interview, but you can’t for the life of you remember it, “You still have reliable transportation, right?”

 _If you’d even call your beat-up car ‘reliable’._  “Yep.”

“Then we’re all set, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“See you then.” You bring the phone away from your ear and swipe your thumb across the screen to end the conversation, biting your lip and staring at your lock screen until it turns black. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the small sheet of glass and cringe at the expression on your face;  _come on, is it really necessary to look_ that _annoyed?_

About six months ago, you’d come to Hollywood on a complete whim, barely enough money in your bank account to keep you afloat and nothing but the promise of an audition at a talent agency to keep you going. You’d sent in a tape all the way from New York, and about two weeks later you’d been flown out to California for an in-person audition. In a whirlwind, you’d become a client at the agency and quickly landed your first professional acting job ever, playing the younger sister of a grieving widow in a pretty low budget indie drama. You’d only been in two scenes, had about five lines, but still…it had been exhilarating. And you’d finally felt like this whole acting thing was really gonna happen for you.

It just went downhill from there.

From that gig came barely any offers whatsoever, aside from a pretty raunchy comedy that required a nude scene that you really didn’t feel comfortable doing. Instead, you did a couple commercials; dog food, fabric softener, and the most recent – tampons. Other than that, your schedule has been dry as hell, and your bank account has slowly been dwindling down. You barely have enough money left to cover rent for the next month and the only options that remain are to get a non-acting job while you wait for auditions or throw in the towel and head back to New York.

The former seems like the best way to go; you’re not the type to just give up. You’ve already promised yourself that you won’t go back until an entire year has passed.

 _Only halfway there_ , you think to yourself,  _anything could happen from now and then._

Like becoming a housekeeper for Keanu Reeves, apparently.

At first the idea had been absolutely absurd; a woman who works at the agency had told you that a few clients had managed to get these kinds of jobs, gaining access to celebrity houses and basically cleaning up after them. To some people it might be appealing, but it had made your stomach turn. You’re supposed to be gaining success, getting your name out there, not watering plants and feeding fish – and the thought of being under the watchful eye of an actor you admire makes things ten times worse. You want to be taken seriously.

But the alternatives – working as a barista, busting your ass as a waitress, nannying – are just not a good balance for what you’re trying to accomplish. You need  _time,_  time to study and rehearse and audition, time that those jobs simply won’t allow for. At least with the housekeeping you won’t be working eight hours a day, and according to the woman at the agency, there’s amazing pay in it. So how can you pass that up?

So you didn’t. You’d put your name in and before you knew it you’d been called in for an interview for Keanu Reeves. He hadn’t been there, his assistant had shown up instead, explaining that he was away shooting a movie and wouldn’t be back for another month. After a thorough background check and what you felt was a positive interview, you’d left feeling hopeful, albeit disappointed in yourself for allowing your career to get to this point.

So here you are. You got the job. And you want to feel thrilled…but it’s difficult.

 _Maybe, I’ll feel better when I see the house_ , you think to yourself, rising from your spot at the kitchen table to go make yourself a cup of tea to calm your nerves. You’re suddenly feeling a bit anxious about the whole thing, reality setting in.

“Did you get the job?” one of your roommates asks, coming into the kitchen in workout attire and putting an empty water bottle in the sink, “Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise. I just heard the end of it when I got back from my run.”

You give her a small smile, “Yep, got it.”

“Great!” she replies, then turns around and leaves, blonde ponytail swishing behind her.

Becca – one of your three roommates. She’s not your friend, none of them are; it’s not really possible to have friends in Hollywood when you’re all essentially competing for the same thing. You’re all signed to the same agency and usually audition for all the same roles, which has created a lot of tension more than once. Your two other roommates haven’t even spoken to each other in about a month after one of them won a role over the other.

Despite what seems like a lot of drama, you manage to stay out of it. You’re there because you need a place to stay, and you get along fine individually with all the girls so you don’t really have anything to complain about. But even with three roommates, rent is ridiculous, and this job is your saving grace.

“Wait, who’s it for again?” you hear behind you, and you turn to see Becca has returned, leaning against the door frame and still catching her breath from the exercise. “Sorry, I forget who you said.”

“Keanu Reeves,” you say, stirring some milk into your tea, “I start tomorrow.”

“Shit, yeah,” her voice is breathless, “He’s like…a big deal.”

You notice your heart begins to beat a bit faster, “I know, but he’s supposed to be really nice.” You look up from your cup and catch a glimpse of Becca’s shocked expression before she shakes it off and nods her head.

“Oh, of course,” she agrees, wiping sweat from her forehead, “Everyone says that. Should be an easy job.”

You shrug, “Hope so.”

“Okay, well,” she slowly backs up, clearly wanting to go change, “I’ll see you later.”

You throw her a thumbs up and she disappears once again; you wonder if she realizes how nervous she’s just made you. “ _A big deal.”_  Yeah, that’s the understatement of the year. He’s fucking Keanu Reeves. His reputation in Hollywood is one of the most well known, and while you’re not worried about him hating you or being rude or something, you’re definitely worried about being in the presence of such a famous actor. And the fact that it’s not for an audition or a role, but because you’re going to be  _cleaning his house_? Yeah, pretty humiliating.

At least you’ll get a month to yourself before you have an audience. To be honest, you’re looking forward to seeing what the house where you’ll be spending a good amount of time actually looks like.

 ——

Keanu’s assistant meets you at eight sharp in front of the house. As you pull up, you feel a lump grow in your throat at the sheer size of it, the black pillars in front seeming quite ominous. His assistant is already there, standing in front of the house with a clipboard; she looks like a real estate agent and you laugh to yourself at the idea of ever having enough money to buy a house like this.

You come to a squeaky stop in the driveway, cringing at the dramatic difference between your shitty car and her not-so-shitty one. You know absolutely nothing about cars but you know expensive when you see it. She waves at you and you wave back, getting out of your car and walking over to her.

“Good morning,” she says, reaching out to shake your hand like she had in your interview, “Ready to start your first day?”

You nod, hoping you look enthusiastic, “Yep, looking forward to it,” you gesture toward the house, “It’s gorgeous.”

She makes an odd facial expression, shrugging, “Not really my taste. I hate the black.”

You’re not really sure how to respond – because you  _do_  like the black – but it doesn’t matter because she’s already turning around, putting a key in the lock and opening the front door. She heads inside and you follow close behind, your eyes widening when you’re greeted with essentially a giant hallway, so grand that you feel as if you’ve stepped into a museum.

“Wow,” is all you can say, taken aback by the unique layout, “Is it all one floor?”

“Yes, three bedrooms and five bathrooms.”

Only three bedrooms? You suppose everything being on the one floor means there’s not as much space, but the way the long hallway sweeps down the entire length of the house – disconnecting on either side into other rooms – makes you wonder how that could be. You can see a swimming pool through the glass door at the far end of the hallway, and the hint of a kitchen counter.

“So, this is the foyer.” Keanu’s assistant begins the tour immediately, waving her hand toward a small sitting area to the left. There’s art hanging everywhere, giant abstract paintings that you could probably sit and look at for hours, trying to figure out what’s hidden within them. There are splashes of bright color everywhere, not only in the art but in the pillows, throws, and rugs. You’re also very aware of the amount of plants peppered around the room, tall and fragile looking.

“Are all the plants real?” you ask, eyeing a particularly bright green fern to the right of you that looks too good to be true.

“Oh, yes, every single one,” she clicks her tongue, “That’ll probably be your main priority; he’s always forgetting to water them. And when he does he just ends up hurting himself. I think it got to be a bit too much for the last housekeeper.”

Well, that’s comforting.

“You’re young, you’ll be fine,” she continues, clearly noticing the worry on your face, “She was hitting her 60s, the watering was strenuous on her back. The gardener took over in her absence, but he already has an entire exterior to keep up. It’s not his job.”

 _Just like feeding the fish._  You wonder what other tasks you’ll be taking off the gardener’s hands.

You walk around a wall to the right and find yourselves in a large living room, art and sculptures and plants scattered around the span of it. There’s a big television and a fireplace, as well as a large sectional couch that looks extremely comfortable, placed in a sunken square of floor that you have to walk down a few steps to get to. For such a large space, the house seems so  _cozy_ , and you feel the anxiousness melt away a little bit. Maybe you’ll like it here.

“That table is usually covered in books,” his assistant says, nodding toward the coffee table, “But just keep them there, no matter how messy it might look. He likes having what he’s reading close by.”

“Oh, me too,” you say with a laugh, “I always get so annoyed when my roommates put them back on the shelf.”

Keanu’s assistant snorts, shaking her head, “He’s gonna like you.”

You can’t help but feel a sense of pride at the compliment.

“I don’t really have time to show you everything,” she says, checking her phone quickly and then slipping it back in her purse, “I have a meeting I need to get to. But I’ll just show you where he keeps the cleaning supplies.”

God, assistants are probably the most impatient people you’ve ever encountered. You follow after her as she rushes out of the room and down the wide hallway. You gaze in awe at the long columns, trying to keep up with her but also wanting to get a good look at as much as you can. There are doors on either side, and another hallway to the right that must lead to another area of the house.

“Here’s the kitchen,” his assistant points to the glass door at the back, “There’s the pool.”

The pool is  _very_  long, taking up most of the back deck and looking out on what seems to be an incredible view. Your eyes move to the huge kitchen, widening at the beautiful marble countertops and shiny cookware. The fridge is huge, and you wonder if you’ll be allowed to eat his food or if you’ll have to bring your own.

On the opposite side of the kitchen is the dining room – a large table surrounded by multicolored chairs – as well as another sitting area and a bar. You love how  _bright_  everything is, the windows shining the morning sun onto every reflecting surface. Whoever designed this house knew what they were doing.

You pass through the kitchen and Keanu’s assistant pulls open a door, leading you into a storage room full of cleaning supplies.

“This is pretty much everything you’ll need, I don’t think you’ll be running out of anything anytime soon,” she looks at you with a reassuring half smile, “I know it looks like a lot but he’s not a very messy person, trust me. I wouldn’t worry too much. Everything probably only needs to be done once a week, except for the plants.”

You nod, “And are there plants in every room?”

“Oh, yes, they’re everywhere,” she gestures for you to follow her out of the room, leading you out of the kitchen and toward a pair of large double doors off the hallway, “Come on, I’ll show you the fish.”

You’re suddenly outside, in a small enclosed garden-like area with a large pond and another sitting area. You inch over to the water, peering down and feeling yourself genuinely smile for the first time all day.

“They’re beautiful.” you say quietly, looking down at the koi fish swimming gracefully back and forth underneath the surface. Their scales reflect against the sun and the water almost looks like it’s sparkling, rippling with their bodies. Without realizing you’re even doing it, you’re suddenly crouching on the edge of the water and dipping your fingers in to feel the fish brush against your skin, “What are their names?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t think they have names.”

You look up at his assistant, raising an eyebrow, “He didn’t name them?”

She shrugs, “Not as far as I know.”

Gazing back at the fish, you feel your face scrunch in confusion. Who the hell doesn’t name their fish? You can already think of at least ten names at the top of your head as you straighten back up and put your hands on your hips.

“So how often do they eat?”

“Four times a day,” she replies, gesturing toward a crate near the door, “All their food and treats are in there.”

 _Four times a day?_ You certainly hadn’t been expecting that. You know that when Keanu comes back it won’t be your responsibility anymore, but that’s not for another month. Does his assistant really expect you to drive here four times a day for a  _month?_  You want to ask, but a part of you is slightly worried that doing so might cost you the job, so you keep your mouth shut.

“Well, that’s all I really have time for,” Keanu’s assistant backs up from the pond and opens the doors again, waving you through, “I’ll give you the keys and you get can get acquainted with the rest of the house on your own.”

To be honest, you actually prefer it that way; it’ll be nice to look around without a watchful eye. You go back to the front door and she digs a ring of keys out of her purse, explaining each ones function and then pulling out a piece of paper with the same instructions.

“Oh, and here’s the list of duties,” she hands you the clipboard she’s been carrying this whole time, “He wrote that himself so hopefully there isn’t any confusion. But if you have any questions just give me a call,” she points to the bottom of the first page, “All the security info is right there, pretty straightforward.”

You have to admit, she could do a much better job at inducting you into this job, but she’s clearly in a rush and you’re sure you can figure everything out on your own. With a final, “Good luck!” as she heads outside, the door shuts behind her and you’re left standing in the very large house all by yourself.

“Okay,” you say to nobody, taking a deep breath, “Where do I even start?”

 —–

The house is  _gorgeous_. You stay a few moments in every single room, taking in everything and letting reality slowly dawn on you. This certainly is going to be a lovely environment to work in; everything is so bright, so colorful, so unique. You can see personal touches in everything, and you know there are stories behind almost every object in the house.

Your favorite rooms by far are the kitchen, the library, the music room, the outside pond area – although you’re not sure if that would really be considered a room but you love those koi fish – and surprisingly, Keanu’s office. Despite being terribly unorganized and painfully messy, you love all the movie memorabilia he has from past roles, and the shelf of awards had drawn your attention for probably a little too long. You’d stared at them for much longer than necessary, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them.

Obviously those aren’t the only rooms in the house, as you find yourself in guest bedrooms, some beautiful bathrooms, an above ground wine cellar, a gym, and more. The only room that makes you slightly nervous is his bedroom; it feels strange to go in there when he’s not home, like you’re invading his privacy even though you’re literally being paid to be there. You stand outside the door for a few minutes, deliberating, before finally turning the knob and going inside.

Surprisingly, it’s not really anything special. You can tell he doesn’t spend much time in there other than to sleep. The bed looks incredibly comfortable though, covered in black and white bedding and some cozy looking pillows. You see the entrances to an en suite bathroom and what’s most likely a walk-in closet, but you already feel as if you’ve overstayed your welcome, so you leave after only about a minute of looking.

After a quick walk-around in the garage – where you find more expensive cars you don’t know the names of as well as a few motorcycles – you head back to the living room and walk down the few steps to settle on the couch, pulling out the list of duties Keanu’s assistant had given you. She’d said he’d written it himself, and you can tell. It’s the kind of handwriting only an actor would have, smooth and wide and sort of indecipherable; you have to squint to understand what it says:

  * **_Plants_**
  * **_Fish_**
  * **_Floors_**
  * **_Dust_**
  * **_Windows_**
  * **_Bathrooms_**



_Well, he certainly gets right to the point._  You spot a few codes at the bottom for security and alarms and then you turn the page over. To your surprise, you see a few short paragraphs of words:

**_Hi there,_ **

**_Not exactly sure who you are yet because no one’s been hired as I’m writing this but I thought I should just say a quick thank you and welcome you to my home. Sorry I’m unable to do this in person but by the time you read this I’ll be out of the country for work._ **

**_My main priorities are the fish and plants – don’t worry too much about everything else. The floors only need to be cleaned once a month except for the kitchen and bathrooms. I wouldn’t worry too much about the windows either. It’d be great if you could dust maybe once a week._ **

**_The plants all have different needs and you can find everything about them on a list I’ll have my assistant give you. Sorry for how many there are. I think my last housekeeper wanted to murder me for having so many._ **

**_The fish are easy. Feed them in five minute intervals three or four times a day and you’re golden. Don’t worry about putting your fingers too close to the water, they’re harmless._ **

**_I think that’s about it. No room is off limits and you’re welcome to whatever food I have, although there probably won’t be much there until I’m back. I know this is a job but I want you to feel as comfortable as possible. Thanks for taking it on._ **

**_Cheers,_ **

**_Keanu Reeves_ **

The note is certainly the final nail in the coffin of reality. You stare at his name for a little too long, Becca’s voice suddenly echoing in your mind –  _He’s like…a big deal._  It’s finally settling in that you’re really here, holding a handwritten note from a successful actor, and not only that, but it’s addressed to  _you_. Well, he doesn’t exactly know who are yet, but still. It’s a lot to take in. This job, this house, this letter, you really hadn’t been expecting any of it when you moved here six months ago.

And suddenly, you can’t wait to start.


	2. Funny How We Met on the Telephone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL, i’ve been gone for a little while and i hope you guys don’t uhhhh hate me or anything. i wouldn’t blame you if you did but oh well. basically the past few months have been kinda difficult for me and i stopped writing for a little bit. but my inspiration is slowly coming back to me and i was finally able to finish a new chapter of this fic for you. thank you so much for being so patient, you truly have no idea how much it’s meant to me.
> 
> chapter title from "i knew this would be love" by imaginary future

The first two weeks of your new job are… interesting, to say the least. When you first applied you’d had no idea that feeding the koi fish would mean having to drive back and forth to the house eight times a day, and you certainly hadn’t factored in the sheer amount of plants to water. How Keanu has managed to accumulate so many remains a mystery to you, and keeping track of all their schedules is somehow even more difficult than the actual watering. Some need daily care, some need watering twice a week, some once every two weeks, etc. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to remember it all.

The actual cleaning probably takes up the least of your time, which is definitely a relief. His bathrooms are all spotless anyway, and since you’re the only one going in and out every day, the floors are clean. You have to admit, it feels kind of good to enter such a big house every day, especially after driving from your relatively small and crowded apartment. Your roommates haven’t really asked you much about the job; they lost interest when you told them Keanu wouldn’t be back for a month. Typical.

For the first two weeks, your days go like this:

You drive your shitty car to Keanu’s house at 7am – about a twenty minute drive which is beyond annoying, but you’re trying not to dwell on that. You let yourself in and immediately go to the fish, grabbing their food from the crate by the pond and standing over the water. The first time you’d fed them you were completely in awe, their little mouths popping up above the water and opening wide for their meal. You’d watched in fascination as they devoured every single bite.

You still do, to be honest. It’s been almost two weeks and you’re still not over the sheer beauty of them. It’s more than a little difficult not to give them names, but you don’t want to intrude your own ideas on someone else’s pets. (Even though you’ve secretly already named the black one with glittery gold specks – your favorite – Cosmo. But no one has to know that.)

After feeding the fish you trail through the house and water the plants that need daily care; most of them are in the kitchen which is the brightest and most dry room in the house. There’s also a bonsai tree in the library that makes you a bit nervous; the instructions you’d been given had said to water it based on the dryness of the soil, which is much harder to judge than you thought it would be. At this point you’re just hoping that you don’t accidentally kill something.

So that’s how your day goes, every single day. In between your fish feeding shifts you try to stay close to the house, not wanting to go all the way back home only to have to make the same drive back. You end up spending a lot of time at a nearby Starbucks, scrolling through your phone and looking at casting calls that might be available to you. So far you have two new auditions set up, both for commercials. It’s not ideal – god, completely far from it – but it’s something.

Part of you wishes you could just…stay at Keanu’s house all day. Despite being big, it’s so  _cozy_ ; you can’t help but feel at home there. But you know that would be inappropriate, not to mention creepy. Still, you can’t help but wish you could; you’ve fallen in love with the house, even though it’s only been two weeks. Every time you’ve been in the library all you’ve wanted to do is settle on the couch and read a book. Make a cup of tea in the kitchen. Try out one of those bass guitars in the music room. Organize that ridiculously messy office.

But you can’t, so there’s not much else you can really do. You’d already wiped down the kitchen and bathrooms on your first day, as well as dusted everything. But you still need to come back three more times to feed the fish, which is by far the only negative thing about this job. Because your car is  _shit_. Absolute shit.

But you do it. Because it’s the job, and it could be so much worse. That’s what you keep telling yourself, anyway.

That is… until the last day of your second week.

You’re almost at Keanu’s house – your last trip of the day – when you notice that your car is going much slower than usual. You know it can’t be a gas problem because you’d just filled it up this morning, and when the hood begins to emit large amounts of thick smoke, you know something’s wrong. You suddenly find yourself on the side of the road, head in your hands as you wait for a tow truck you can’t afford.

 _You shouldn’t have told his assistant you had reliable transportation_ , you think to yourself as the tow truck pulls up, but hindsight isn’t going to get you out of this situation. Twenty minutes and over a hundred dollars in towing fees later, you’re being picked up by Alexis, one of your roommates – very exasperated at this interruption in her day – and then making an urgent phone call to a car repair service employee who informs you that just getting an  _estimate_  on your repairs will cost 150 dollars. By the time you’re pulling into Keanu’s driveway, it’s an understatement to say that you’re feeling incredibly defeated.

“Just give me ten minutes,” you say, opening the car door, “I’m gonna feed the fish and call his assistant.”

She stares at you, “Couldn’t you just…pretend to do it? I mean, come on, how much food do fish really need?”

And therein lies the difference between you and your roommates, “No, I really should, they get hungry pretty fast.”

“Okay, well hopefully you still have a job when you come out.” Alexis replies, and you can’t tell if she’s trying to be helpful or not. You close the door and head towards the house, then hear her calling out to you, “Can I come in and look around?”

You grimace, turning back to look at her, “Uh, no, that’s not allowed, sorry.” You actually have no idea if it’s allowed or not, but the idea of having one of your roommates in what has become a very calm space for you makes you pretty uncomfortable. You don’t need that energy following you to work.

You make your way out to the koi pond and grab some food from their crate, heading over to the water and sitting cross legged in front of it. You start shaking bits of food into the hungry mouths of the fish below, unable to stop yourself from smiling at them as they eat despite feeling shitty as hell right now. You spot Cosmo and reach down to run your index finger along his scales. You do feel a little guilty for naming someone else’s fish, but apparently not enough to stop you.

“Well, babies…time to seal my fate,” you sigh, reaching your hand back and taking out your phone. “Depending on how this phone call goes, I might not be your temporary mama for much longer.”

After one last moment of hesitation, you scroll through your contacts and find Keanu’s assistant, pressing the phone icon and bringing it to your ear. After a few long beeps – and a few seconds of desperately hoping she won’t answer – her voice is suddenly in your ear.

“Y/N! I’ve been meaning to check in, I’m glad you called!”

You’re suddenly hit with a small wave of relief when you realize she seems to be in a good mood. The last thing you need is making an already irritated person even more irritated.

“Hi! Yeah, it’s going well, I just finished feeding the fish for the day.”

“Great! And I’m guessing you’ve become accustomed to the house now? Know where everything is?”

“Yep,” you stand up and walk over to the food crate, placing what’s left back inside, “It’s a beautiful house, I love it here.”

“That’s good to hear. Listen, I don’t really have much time to chat-”  _Of course_ , “-but if there’s something you need, go ahead!”

“Well, there is – uh – one thing.”

“What’s that?”

You cringe, taking a deep breath and shoving a hand in the pocket of your hoodie, “Well, unfortunately I ran into a bit of car trouble today.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, I’m sorry.” She still doesn’t sound irritated; you wonder how long that will last.

“Thank you, yeah, there’s something wrong with the engine, I think? I talked to a mechanic but he needs to take a look at it before he can pinpoint the problem. I’m gonna have to put it in the shop to get fixed.” You take a deep breath, “I’m not sure for how long exactly.”

“That  _is_  too bad. Do you have alternative transportation? We can easily accommodate that if you need it.”

You freeze, eyes widening in surprise, “Wait, really?”

“I’m sure we can figure something out, yes. I’ll contact Keanu and get a second opinion but I’m sure he’ll be on board.”

“I- wow, thank you so much.”

“You sound surprised,” his assistant says, laughing lightly, “I hope you didn’t think he’d fire you over something like that.”

“Well, I-” you shake your head, dumbfounded, “Yeah, I guess so,” you laugh to yourself, “I mean, I haven’t met him yet, so…”

She just laughs again, “Well, let me tell you, he’ll probably get a real kick out of that.”

Oh, god. Would she really tell him that? You want to ask if she’s joking or not but you don’t want to push your luck, totally relieved by how  _easy_  this conversation has gone.

“I’m gonna have to let you go unfortunately, but I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow morning and we’ll figure out the details. Good talking to you!” She hangs up before you can say goodbye, but it doesn’t even bother you. You’re just in complete awe of the fact that you still have a job.

Maybe you’re stupid for thinking you’d lose it to begin with, but you never know with celebrities. You’ve heard many a horror story about certain actors in the industry and the way they treat their employees; you suppose you just happen to be one of the lucky ones.

You take one last look at the fish and then head back through the house to the entrance. Alexis is still waiting in the car, focused on her phone as you open the passenger door and slip inside.

“Well, I still have a job.”

No response. She holds a finger up and continues to text with her other hand, then hits send and looks up at you, “Sorry, what?”

You’re too relieved to even be annoyed.

—–

You sleep pretty peacefully, still a little unsure of what transportation arrangements are going to be made for you in the morning, but not enough to keep you awake. You end up having a dream about The Matrix which leaves you feeling a bit strange when you wake up, still trying to process the fact that _Neo_  is now your boss. The ridiculousness is laughable, but you don’t have time to think about it – the reason you woke up is because your phone is ringing.

You look at the time – 5:47am. Your alarm is set for 6 so it’s not much of an inconvenience, but you squint at the phone number lit up on the screen, trying to figure out who it is. You don’t recognize it, but it could be the repair shop you’d put your car into last night, so you clear your throat from sleep and bring it to your ear.

“Hello?” you sound groggy and tired, but you doubt a mechanic is going to care about that.

“Hi, is this Y/N?” a male voice responds, slightly hoarse like yours but very soft.

“Yes,” you reply, unable to stop a yawn from escaping your mouth, “God, sorry.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, I was already up,” you lie, not wanting to seem rude, “Is this about my car?” You sit up in bed, swinging your legs over the side and walking over to your window to pull apart the curtains.

“Yeah, I wanted to get in touch with you about everything; my assistant filled me in. This is Keanu Reeves, by the way.”

You feel the phone drop from your fingers and you’re barely able to catch it before it hits the floor, heart suddenly racing.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._ You turn away from the window and spot your reflection in the mirror; your face has gone pale.

Well, you certainly hadn’t been expecting this.  _Pull yourself together_ , you tell yourself, before putting the phone back to your ear – thankfully your minor freak out had actually only lasted a few seconds.

“Oh, hi, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you directly,” you honestly surprise yourself with the calmness of your voice, sounding pleasant and casual even though your heart feels like it’s about to burst through your chest, “I’m so used to talking to your assistant.”

He laughs lightly, and there’s a child-like quality to it that you like, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I’ve been working for the past little bit and haven’t had much time to sort all this stuff out. She’s better at it than me anyway.”

You laugh, feeling your tension ease a bit. You already feel like you’re talking to an acquaintance, not a boss, and it’s quite comforting.

“Anyway, it’s too bad about your car, I hate when that happens,” he chuckles softly again, “If I was in LA I’d probably have a look at it for you, save you the trouble.”

“And the money.” You say, not really thinking about the fact that you’re literally talking to a millionaire who probably hasn’t had to worry about money since he was twenty.

“That too,” he agrees, a smile in his voice “Well, since you’re in a bit of a pickle I just wanted to call you myself and give you a couple options that Candice and I kind of brainstormed last night.”

 _Candice._ That’s his assistants name. You feel guilty for not remembering it until now but it’s not like you’ve been working with her every day.

“Lay ‘em on me.” You reply, and wince immediately at your obvious awkwardness.

Keanu laughs again – he’s a very giggly person, you realize, which you honestly never would have expected, “ _Well_ ,” he puts a lot of emphasis on the word, you can still hear that he’s smiling, “We can set you up with a rental, probably something that’ll make you look really cool, make everybody jealous, all that jazz…”

You snort and then cringe at the sound of it, but he doesn’t seem to find it obnoxious, continuing talking like there was no disruption.

“ _Or_ , how would you like to stay at the house for a few weeks?”

You feel your eyebrows go up in surprise, then scrunch in confusion.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he says it casually, like it’s truly no big deal at all that he’s asking if you want to  _live in his house_ , “We’d still set you up with a rental, but you won’t have to deal with all the annoying back-and-forth. I mean, the place is empty, except for the fish of course, so you won’t be bothered by anyone,” he pauses, “Well, and Jay – he’s the gardener – but he only stops by once a week. We’d let him know you’re there.”

It’s like you’re hearing the words but they’re not fully computing inside your brain, leaving you unable to figure out what to say. When you went to sleep last night you never in your wildest dreams had expected to wake up to a phone call from Keanu Reeves, let alone have him ask if you want to temporarily move into his house.

 _Does this actually happen? Is it normal for an actor to do this? What do I even say? Would it be rude to say yes? But is that what he wants me to say? What if he’s just being polite and he wants me to say no?_  Your mind is racing with a million thoughts a minute, dead air suddenly hanging between yours and Keanu’s phone call.

“It sounds crazy, I know,” he says, a bit loud in your ear, “I mean, I’m basically just some guy asking if you want to live in his house – ” he halts for a few seconds, “ – that does sound weird, doesn’t it? It’s not though,” he laughs again, a bit awkwardly this time, “Well, maybe it is, I don’t know. I don’t think so. It’s up to you, though.”

He has a tendency to ramble it seems, just like you do. You can see the color returning to your face in the mirror, cheeks going a bit redder than normal as you notice this similarity.

“It’s not weird,” you reassure him, even though it kind of is, but not in a creepy way; more-so in an ‘actors aren’t usually this accommodating’ kind of way, “I’d actually, um…well, I’d kind of love that, to be honest. Your house is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He says, a bit softer; you can sense some relief in his voice that he hasn’t scared you off.

There’s another few seconds of silence before you quickly decide to break it again, “When should I…?” you trail off, not knowing exactly how to word it.

He understands immediately, “Oh, whenever you want! Today, tomorrow, completely up to you. I’ll have some groceries delivered later today so the fridge is stocked, you can send Candice a list of anything you might want. Feel free to go a little crazy.”

You’re still in a weird state of shock, shaking your head as he speaks, “So, you’re…like…totally fine with this? You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” he responds, smile back in his voice, “Listen, that house is too big to not have anyone living in it. And I want you to actually enjoy your job, shake some of the stress off, ya know?”

_His reputation really precedes him, huh._

“Well, I really appreciate it, truly,” you’re already thinking about how great it’s gonna be to get away from your roommates for a little while, “Honestly, I think I’ll probably be moved in by the end of today.”

“Great! Candice is gonna send a car to your house; what would you prefer? Audi? Lexus?”

You know those are both expensive car brands, but you really have absolutely no idea what the distinction is between the two or which would be the better option. Despite this, you try to play it cool, “Uh, surprise me.”

He might see through you but if he does, he doesn’t let it show, “Alright!” his enthusiasm makes you smile, “That’s exciting!”

You laugh, “It is!”

“I love cars,” he says with a happy sigh, “There’s just something about them, ya know? The way they- ” he suddenly seems to compose himself, “God, sorry, I’ll call Candice and get it set up for you.”

You can’t help but laugh again, a little bit harder this time at his random car tangent, and he gasps in faux-shock in response.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Maybe.”

He chuckles, “Hey, I thought we had a good thing goin’ here.”

“We do!” you say right away, feeling a nervous pang in your chest, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, God, don’t apologize! Totally kidding,” he clears his throat, “It’s probably too early for jokes, my bad.” You’re about to tell him it isn’t and you’re just being your anxious self, but he continues before you get the chance, “I’ll let you go and have Candice get in touch with you about the car.”

“Okay,” you nod, “Before you go, um…”

He doesn’t say anything, just waits in silence for you to finish your thought, which you appreciate – even though it makes you a bit nervous.

“Thank you. Not just for the house thing, but for everything – the job and all that,” you bite your lip, feeling your familiar awkwardness creeping back in, “It’s, uh, a really good opportunity for me.”  _What does that even mean? An opportunity to do what, exactly? God._

“There’s no need to thank me for anything, seriously,” he sounds incredibly sincere, “I’m the one who should be thanking you, which I’ll do now: thank you!”

You can’t help but giggle, feeling your cheeks warm again; he’s  _very_ charming, you’ll give him that.

“You’re welcome, Keanu.”

For some reason, the way his name slips off your tongue gives you goosebumps.

“I’ll talk to you again soon,” he says, voice still soft, “Bye.”

“Bye.”

You slowly bring the phone down from your ear, then toss it onto your bed. After staring at it for a few seconds, you turn back to the window and finish opening the curtains.

You’re not sure why exactly, but LA suddenly looks different.


	3. The Sound Waves of Your Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for another bit of a wait on this one, thank you all so much as usual for being so patient 💖 i promise i have so much planned for this fic its ridiculous, so if i’m ever a bit late with the posting it doesn’t have anything to do with me not wanting to write it, don’t worry.
> 
> chapter title from "words" by naaz

You start packing immediately after hanging up the phone, not even bothering to get dressed as you pull things from your closet and shove them into your travel bag. As you pack, you attempt to process exactly what’s even happening right now; you’ve really been asked by  _Keanu Reeves_   _himself_ if you want to move into his house. Two weeks ago you hadn’t even wanted this job, and now suddenly you’re so incredibly grateful that you got it. In what other world would you get an opportunity like this to get away from your roommates and actually have some time to yourself for once? You’re already fantasizing about all the rehearsing you’ll get to do without ears pressed against doors, without being told  _“Well, what if you did it_ this way  _instead_?”, without constantly feeling like you’re in a never-ending competition.

It feels amazing.

You quickly shower and pack up your bathroom items, then head downstairs with your bags and peek into the kitchen to see what awaits you. All three of your roommates are sitting at the kitchen table, although only Becca and your third roommate Hayley are talking; Alexis sits across from them on her phone, clearly ignoring the conversation. Hayley and Alexis are the ones who haven’t spoken to each other in at least a month after Hayley won a role they’d both gotten to the final auditions for. You’ve never seen such dramatic passive aggressiveness in your life.

You place your bags quietly by the front door and then head back to the kitchen, not wanting to announce your news until you absolutely have to; you know there’s going to be a lot of questions and you don’t even know how to answer them at this point. No one talks to you when you enter, so you fill up the kettle and start preparing your morning cup of tea, hoping they don’t notice when you take the whole box of tea bags down from the cupboard so you can add it to your bag. You’re the only one who drinks it anyway.

Speaking of which…you can’t remember if Keanu has a kettle at his house. As soon as the water is finished boiling you add it to your mug and quickly drain the rest in preparation to take it with you.

Just as your tea is finished steeping, Becca gets up from the table, “Well, I’m going for my run.”

“Have fun.” Hayley replies, looking down at her phone.

Alexis briefly looks up to give Hayley a dirty look before going back to whatever she’s doing.  _God_ , you can’t wait to get away from this.

Becca leaves the room and about ten seconds later she rushes back, expression confused, “Who’s leaving?!”

“What?” Alexis finally speaks, putting her phone down, “Leaving?”

“Someone’s bags are in front of the door,” Becca explains, voice anxious, “Are one of you guys moving out because a group meeting  _definitely_  wasn’t called and if you’re leaving without giving us a warning, that’s fucked up.”

You try not to roll your eyes, taking a sip of tea before licking your lips and sighing, “They’re mine,” everyone looks at you and you can practically hear them gasping internally, “I’m not moving out though, I’m still paying rent. I’m just gonna go stay somewhere else for a few weeks.”

Becca looks at you as if you have three heads, “Somewhere else? Where?”

Before you can answer, Hayley chimes in, “Somewhere closer to Keanu’s house? Because of all the driving?”

You’re honestly surprised that someone’s been paying attention, and Hayley’s assumption gives you a new way out of all the dreaded questions.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding, “One of the other girls from the housekeeping service said I can stay at her house for a little while. She’s, um, going away for a bit. A vacation or something.” For an actress, you’re not the most amazing liar, but they seem to be buying it, “It’s only about a ten minute drive from Keanu’s.”

“Must be a nice house, then.” Alexis mutters bitterly, and you can feel her jealousy radiating from where she’s sitting; cleaning Keanu’s house was one thing, but moving somewhere nicer to do it? She’s annoyed. As mean as it sounds, her irritation makes you feel a bit smug.

“I’m gonna take the kettle with me, if you don’t mind,” you’re not sure why you’re asking for permission –  _you’re_  the one who bought it after all – but you feel bad for lying.

Becca waves her hand, “Oh, go ahead, you know none of us use it.”

“So, you’ll still pay your part of the rent? Next Friday?” Hayley asks, and you nod.

“Yep, don’t worry about it, I got it covered.”

Just as you say this, your phone rings – Keanu’s assistant. You excuse yourself from the kitchen and walk to the front door to escape the listening ears behind you. Your call is brief – she tells you that your rental is ready and you plan for it to be waiting outside your apartment as soon as possible.

She also tells you that Keanu actually did end up picking it himself, which admittedly makes you nervous as hell.

—–

An hour later, after scrolling through some casting calls and responding to a few e-mails, a car pulls up outside. You’re the first to see it, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach when you see how nice it is; it’s  _definitely_  expensive, and  _definitely_  not like anything you’ve ever driven before.

“Whose car is that?” Hayley is beside you before you can even process everything, and you splutter a bit before replying.

“Um – uh, mine, I think,” you get up and slide into your shoes, eyes glued to the car, “It’s a rental.”

“How the fuck can you afford an  _Audi_?!” Alexis asks, suddenly standing on the other side of you looking confused.

Before you can reply, Becca appears in the doorway, back from her run with a shocked expression on her face, “Is that for  _you_?”

You really hate attention, absolutely despise it, actually – which certainly isn’t what you’d expect considering the profession you’ve chosen – and all the eyes of your prying roommates being on you makes you feel incredibly uncomfortable. You pick your bags up off the floor, slipping past Becca and walking out to the front step.

“I’ll talk to you guys soon.” you say, with every intention to do the exact opposite. You turn around and walk quickly to the car, the driver getting out and helping you put your bags in the trunk. You don’t look back at your roommates, knowing full well they’re already talking about you.

The drive to Keanu’s house is relatively quiet – you don’t really know what to say and you’re also extremely distracted by how luxurious the interior of the car is; Alexis had said Audi, and your very,  _very_  limited knowledge of cars tells you that it’s a pretty high quality brand. It’s sleek, with a black exterior and interior, and the number of gadgets on the dashboard is already overwhelming – and you’re not even the one driving.

The driver does say a few things throughout the drive, telling you that all your necessary information for the insurance has already been forwarded by Keanu’s assistant. According to him, you have the car for 2 months, which is more than enough time to get your car fixed. It can’t be cheap to rent a car  _this_ nice for that long, and you spend most of the drive simply marveling at Keanu’s generosity.

You pull up to Keanu’s house and quickly sign a few documents for the driver, who hands you the keys and then gets out to walk over to the other car in the driveway – his associate. You watch them back down the driveway before disappearing down the road.

And that’s it. Suddenly, you’re sitting completely alone in a  _beautiful_  car in front of a  _beautiful_  house that you will be living in for the next few  _beautiful_  weeks. It honestly feels like a dream you hope you never wake up from. It’s crazy to think that you’d initially never even wanted to apply for this job. Hoo boy.

You carry your bags inside and immediately come to the realization that you have no idea where you’re sleeping. Obviously Keanu’s bedroom is out of the question, so you know there are two guest rooms to choose from. There’s a small one on the left side of the house, closer to the garage, and there’s one across the hall from Keanu’s room, a lot bigger with a jacuzzi in the en suite bathroom. The choice is pretty easy, so you bring your stuff to the room and start unpacking.

It’s been tempting the past two weeks to try out one of the beds, but obviously it had been incredibly inappropriate and you hadn’t dared. Now, however, there’s absolutely nothing stopping you. With a sly smile, you fall backwards onto the bed, the black and red blankets enveloping you as you sink into the soft mattress. You’re not sure if you’ve ever laid on something this comfortable in your life.  _Oh my god…this is heaven._

You’re not sure how it happens exactly, seeing as you only woke up not long ago, but the sudden relief and relaxation you feel sends you into unconsciousness pretty quickly.

—–

The sound of footsteps in another part of the house wakes you up a few hours later, and you practically fall over trying to get off the bed. You hear distant voices, none of them recognisable, and for a moment you’re terrified that you left the door unlocked and accidentally let fans or paparazzi into the house. But no, you distinctly remember locking the door, so it must be someone who has a key.

You walk out into the main hallway and see two men placing bags on the floor – groceries. One of them turns and heads back out to grab more, while the other notices you and gives you a smile, reaching his hand out.

“You must be the housekeeper,” he says with a charming smile, then pulls his hand away and points to himself, “Gardener.”

“Oh, nice to meet you.” You tell him your name and he smiles wider.

“I’m Jay. Sorry for letting myself in, I usually just stay outside but this guy was knocking and I had to let him in.”

“Totally fine,” you say with a reassuring nod, “I didn’t even hear him, so…”

You both stand there a bit awkwardly for a second before the grocery man re-enters and places the last few bags on the floor, “Have a nice day.” He says before walking back outside and getting in his truck.

“Let me help you with those.” Jay says as you reach down, and you feel yourself sigh internally – you came to this house to be  _alone_.

Even though you’d rather he just go back to his duties, you figure he has just as much of a right to be here as you do, considering he’s been working here longer than you. Plus, he seems harmless. You both carry the groceries into the kitchen and Jay begins to pull items out when you put your hand up to stop him.

“No, that’s okay! I’ll do it, seriously, it’s my job,” you try to say it without sounding like you want him to leave, but he sees right through you.

“You wanna be alone,” he says with a laugh, and before you can interrupt he laughs again, “No, it’s fine, I get it. But it was really nice meeting you!” he backs away, winking one of his blue eyes at you, “I’ll see you around. I’m here once a week so we’ll bump into each other again.”

He’s got a very flirty vibe surrounding him that you’re not really feeling, but you toss him a smile, “See ya.”

As soon as you hear the front door shut, you sigh in relief and begin to put away the groceries, trying to figure out where everything goes. Keanu doesn’t have that much in any of the cupboards – you suppose there’s no need for him to keep it stocked when he’s away.

He doesn’t have many magnets on the fridge but he does have those word ones, the ones you can mix and match to make sentences and poems with. The words have been scrambled since you arrived, no poem or sentence discernible, and now that you’re staying in the house for a little while, it doesn’t feel as weird to put one together.

Once all the groceries are put away you spend a few moments standing in front of the fridge, pulling and pushing the magnets back and forth with your tongue between your lips, trying to come up with something good. In the end, you end up with this:

_Please be quiet I am busy being alone._

“I mean…it’s fitting.” You say aloud to no one in particular.

—–

After feeding the fish and doing a few things here and there, the urge to test out that amazing bath in your bedroom becomes way too strong. You soon find yourself kneeling beside it, dipping two fingers in the water to test it before standing and beginning to undress. At first you have to admit that it feels a little bit creepy to be taking a bath in the house of someone you’ve never met – not to mention even creepier once you’re naked – but there’s a slight thrill in it too. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’re  _allowed_  to be doing what you’re doing; Keanu  _wants_ you to be here.

(Yeah, definitely a thrill.)

As soon as you’re submerged in the hot water you feel immediately at peace, closing your eyes and leaning your head back. After a few moments of relaxation you reach for the mug of tea resting on the side of the tub and take a long sip, putting it down again when your phone suddenly dings. You pick it up and see an e-mail notification.

It only takes a few seconds to realize that it’s from your agency, notifying you that you’ve booked an audition for another commercial. You bite your lip, skipping through most of it to see what you’ll be advertising: dish soap. Great. You put your phone back down and completely submerge yourself in the water.

—-

You spend the rest of the day puttering around Keanu’s house, not really doing anything in particular but also not wanting to stay in one place. You find yourself by the koi pond a lot, watching them and trying your hardest not to name more of them, though you’re pretty sure one of the orange and black ones is a definitive Nemo.

The couch in the living room is extremely comfortable, and in your solitude you end up somehow managing to take another nap. You hadn’t realized how much stress being in that house with those girls has caused you; finally having a chance to be away from them is already doing wonders.

You wake up to another email, this time containing your lines for the commercial. You really hate reading off a screen so you head to Keanu’s office where you know there’s a printer, hoping he won’t mind you going in. He’d said in his initial note that no room was off limits, but you’ve only been in here once, so it still feels a bit odd. Especially with the space being so obviously personal – the movie memorabilia, awards, and treasures from sets and places all over the world peppered around the room.

You sit down in the black desk chair and turn on the printer, setting up the bluetooth and humming to yourself. Once it’s set up, you lean back and wait for it to print, your eyes scanning the room and taking in everything.  _This is what he sees when he’s working_ , you think to yourself, wondering if this is where he rehearses. You look at the computer and hesitantly reach down to shake the mouse, your curiosity getting the better of you _. I just want to see what his desktop wallpaper is._

You come face to face with a picture of a beautiful view, from what looks like a canyon. You wonder if he took it himself or if it’s something he found online. His administrator icon is the logo for his motorcycle company.

Not wanting to go any further than that, you turn the monitor back off and grab your script, getting out of the chair and heading to the door. Before you can leave however, you gravitate toward the award shelf again, eyeing each of them meticulously. He doesn’t have any of them protected by a glass case, they’re kind of just… sitting there.

Your curiosity  _definitely_  getting the better of you at this point, you place your script on the desk and reach out to grab one of the bigger awards – a Bambi from Germany shaped like a fawn. It’s sleek and smooth, and you notice there’s dust all over the top of it, like no ones touched it in years. Feeling incredibly vain, you turn toward the mirror on the wall and stare at yourself holding the award for a few moments, heart in your throat.  _So that’s what it would look like._

During this extremely selfish moment, you’re interrupted by your phone ringing, and it surprises you so much that you almost drop the award, a shocked gasp escaping your mouth as you frantically grab it before it hits the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you say aloud, relieved but terrified as you hold the award in one hand and pull your phone out with the other. There’s no name but that number looks familiar, and your eyes widen when you realize it’s Keanu,  _“Jesus fucking Christ.”_

Still holding the award, you bring the phone to your ear, “Hi.” you say, and you hope he can’t hear how breathless you are.

“Hi there,” his voice replies, kind and pleasant, “Just wanted to check in, make sure everything’s okay over there.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great,” you say immediately, licking your lips nervously, “All settled.”

“That’s good to hear. What do you think of the car?”

“Oh, uh, very fancy,” you say with a breathless laugh, “Like, way fancier than anything I’ve ever been in. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“Nah, it’s nothin’,” he says, brushing your words off quickly, “But yeah, Audi is definitely a favorite of mine. It was between that and a Porsche but I felt like that might have been a bit too much, if you know what I mean.”

You walk around the room as you talk, eyeing all the objects as you pass them, “Yeah, I mean, not that I really know the difference but I appreciate it.”

He laughs, and the sound sends a strange thrill through you that causes you to almost drop the award again, an audible yelp escaping your mouth as you catch it.

“You okay?” he asks, voice concerned.

“Yep,” your voice is higher than normal as you carefully place the Bambi back onto the award shelf, backing away slowly, “Almost dropped something, sorry.”

He chuckles, “Where are you?”

You freeze, “What do you mean?”

“Like what room? Are you in my office?”

You stand perfectly still, blinking a few times in disbelief, then pull the phone away from your ear to look down at it in confusion. You’re suddenly worried that you’ve accidentally facetimed with him, but nope, the camera is off.

“How…did you guess that?”

He laughs again, your anxiety ebbing, “Don’t worry, I don’t have cameras on you or anything, don’t get freaked out.”

“Too late.” You reply, meaning for it to be a joke but the nervousness in your voice is obvious.

“I heard the printer beep,” he explains, “It does that until you disconnect from the bluetooth, I have no idea why. Were you printing something?”

“Well, uh –”

“’Cause that’s fine!” he reassures you immediately, “I told you nothing was off limits! Actually, ignore that question, it’s none of my business.”

“No, no, no it’s totally fine, I was printing off a script.”

There’s a pause in the conversation and you stand there waiting for him to say something, scrunching your eyebrows.

“Like…” he trails off, trying to come up with the words, “Like, one of  _my_  scripts? Are you copying something?” The sudden hint of confusion in his voice brings all your anxiety back to the forefront.

“Oh my god, no, not at all! It’s one of mine, it’s for an audition I have coming up,” you explain, stumbling over the words, “It’s only short, they e-mailed it to me but I like having a physical copy.”

“You’re an actress?” he sounds interested –  _genuinely_  – which makes you even more nervous, and you swallow before slowly sitting down in his desk chair again to calm your nerves.

“Um, yeah. Your assistant, uh, didn’t tell you that?”

“She didn’t,” he replies, sounding a bit disappointed that he’s only just now learning this information, “How long have you been working?”

You laugh without humor, leaning back in the chair, “I mostly only go to auditions, if you’d call that working.”

“No, I mean, when did you first start? When did it come into your life?”

His gentle curiosity makes your cheeks warm a bit; a famous actor asking you questions about  _your_ craft? You’d never expected something like this to happen so early in your career, and it’s nerve-wracking but thrilling at the same time to get a chance to tell your story – or, some of it at least.

“Um, well, in elementary school I did this school play. It was a Christmas concert thing, I played Mary,” you snort, “I think I had maybe three lines, I was only in one scene. But from that moment I knew it was something I wanted to do.”

There’s silence, and you realize Keanu is listening intently to you, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow, “After that I started going to theater camp every summer; it was kind of just a hobby for a while. I was in a few more productions in high school, and that’s when I decided it was what I wanted to pursue, like, officially or whatever.”

“You started earlier than me, I like that,” Keanu says softly with a chuckle, “So, have I seen you in anything?”

Fuck. The question you dread  _constantly_  when telling someone about your job. How the hell are you supposed to sit there and tell  _Keanu Reeves_  that your most recent acting gig was a tampon commercial? The humiliation alone would probably make you never want to enter this house again.

You think on your feet, but probably not in the most well executed way: “I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

He laughs immediately, gentle and child-like as usual, “Ah, a mystery,” he says in a faux mystical voice, “How intriguing.”

You can’t help but giggle, playing absentmindedly with a button on your pajamas, “I met the gardener today – Jay,” you change the subject, wanting to move away from the acting stuff before he presses it further, although a part of you feels like he wouldn’t, “He’s nice.”

“Oh yeah, Jay’s a cool guy,” Keanu agrees, switching subjects easily without making it awkward, “If you ever need help with anything around the house I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending a hand, I’ll ask Candice to give you his number.”

 _Yeah, I’m sure he wouldn’t,_  you think to yourself, remembering the flirtatious way he’d carried himself, “Sounds good.”

“Well,” Keanu says with an exhale, “Sorry to keep you from rehearsing, let me know how the audition goes, okay?”

It’s incredible that despite not knowing you  _at all_ , he really seems to be genuinely interested, not a hint of insincerity in his voice whatsoever. You can’t help but smile wide, the warmth in your cheeks spreading to the rest of your body and sending a surge of confidence through you.

“I will,” you reply softly, “Thank you for calling.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he replies, that familiar huskiness you’d heard early this morning back in his voice, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”


	4. I Still Get Nervous Below The Surface

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want to say thank you so much to everyone who's reading this story and leaving such lovely comments. life has been so stressful for me this year and honestly seeing such nice words from you guys makes me feel so much better. i appreciate all of you. i know i'm not exactly amazing when it comes to any sort of update schedule, but i promise that i love this fic and i have so many plans for it. thank you for being patient <3
> 
> chapter title from "nervous" by charlotte

Carrying out your housekeeping duties at Keanu’s house certainly becomes much easier once you’ve settled in. You love being able to just wake up, walk down a hallway, and open the doors to the koi pond without even having to get dressed. It’s so quiet and peaceful in the house, cozy despite being so large, and you somehow feel as if you’re truly meant to be there.

Being a full-on guest in the house means you finally feel comfortable in all the rooms – except for his bedroom, which you’ve still only been in once – and it’s nice to be able to go anywhere you please. You don’t feel like you have to immediately leave the library after watering the bonsai tree – you can stay and settle on the couch with a good book. Same with the music room, you literally spent your entire Saturday going through his record collection and listening to every genre under the sun until suddenly it was 6pm and you realized you hadn’t eaten anything all day (and had barely gotten halfway through the collection).

Admittedly you’ve taken the Audi out for a few spins around the block, and of course on some Starbucks runs, but other than that it hasn’t gotten as much action as Keanu probably hoped it would. Growing up in New York City probably should have prepared you for LA drivers and traffic, but you never really drove when you lived there; you mainly took the subway to get everywhere you needed to go. So driving has never really been your thing, but you’re still incredibly grateful for Keanu’s thoughtfulness.

And the very best part of living in Keanu’s house?

Not having to talk to your roommates.

This is especially good for when you’re rehearsing, which has become quite often – there’s something about being in an actor’s house that really just brings the acting chops out of you, which you’re not complaining about. There’s a big mirror near the entrance of Keanu’s house, surrounded by bright green plants in the sitting area, and you’ve taken to standing in front of it to go over your lines.

Jay, the gardener, stops by at the beginning of your second week living in the house, and unfortunately happens to pass by the front window when you’re standing there talking to the mirror. You don’t see him until you notice some movement in the corner of your eye, and when you turn you see that he’s standing there with a giant pair of lawn cutters in his hand – grinning at you. He waves as soon as you make eye contact.

_God, please don’t come in._

He comes in.

“So, how’s everything going?” he asks, resting the lawn cutters against the front door, “Bored to death yet?”

“Bored?”

He laughs, “Cooped up in this house all by yourself? It has to get a little boring.”

You shake your head, “No, I love it, actually. I like being alone.” You assert the last word but he doesn’t seem to notice, just nodding and smiling.

“Wish I was like that,” he says with another laugh, “I can’t go very long without talking to someone.”

 _Doesn’t surprise me_. “Yeah, I don’t really mind it.” The conversation has only just started but you’re already trying to end it.

“What were you doing in the mirror, then?” he asks, pointing at it, “Could have sworn you were talking to yourself.”

You feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment – and a little bit of frustration, “Oh, no, I was rehearsing.”

“Rehearsing?”

“I’m an actress.”

His eyes widen, “An actress? What are you doing cleaning houses?”

You have absolutely no idea if Jay realizes how tactless he is but at this point you don’t really care; this is only the second time you’ve talked to him and he’s already annoying the hell out of you. Usually you’re pretty good at deflecting guys, but since you both work here you can’t really tell him to go away.

Instead, you count to three in your mind and calmly reply, “It’s a tough business. Gotta make money somehow, right?” you nod to his lawn cutters, “Housekeeping,  _gardening,_  whatever gets you there.”

He looks at the lawn cutters and then back to you, his face falling slightly, “I worded that completely wrong, didn’t I?”

Your lips tighten, “Little bit.”

He’s about to start apologizing – you can tell – but his phone suddenly goes off. He gives you an apologetic smile and brings it to his ear, “Hello? Oh hey, Candice, what’s up?”

Keanu’s assistant. You stand there awkwardly while he talks to her, his replies mostly consisting of “yeah”, “of course”, and “you got it”. That is until –

“She’s actually standing right in front of me,” he winks at you, “Hell of a girl.”

 _Hell of a girl?_ He barely even knows you and he’s already giving an opinion to Candice – it makes you uncomfortable. You wonder if Keanu knows how flirty this guy is – although probably not, seeing as Jay is probably the straightest dude you’ve ever encountered.

“Yeah, I’ll let her know,” he says, then hangs up, “Listen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, I know it’s a tough business. I actually used to do commercials but I stopped because, well,  _commercials_.”

Well that puts a bit of a crack into your ego, your forgiving smile faltering slightly. “Commercials?” you say with a false laugh, “Wow, yeah, uh, been there.”

“A nightmare,” he says, shaking his head, “I remember I did this one for Pepto Bismol and I never lived it down, it followed me everywhere for like six years. Pretty much the reason I quit.”

You nod slowly, pretending to empathize when in reality you’re having a bit of an internal breakdown, “Mm hm,” you nod, “A nightmare.”

After a few more apologies from Jay you manage to get him out the door and back to work. You sit on the couch in the living room for what feels like no time at all, just staring into space and calculating your life choices up until this point with Jay’s words echoing in your mind. Before you know it, an hour has passed and Jay is long gone.

It’s only then that you realize Jay had said “Yeah, I’ll let her know” to Candice, and that he hadn’t actually told you what she’d said.

 _Oh well,_  you shrug,  _if it’s important she’ll tell me herself._

—–

The next morning you drive to your audition in the Audi, feeling a little self conscious but also hoping someone might see you driving it and decide to take you more seriously. You know it’s superficial but that’s Hollywood for you.

There’s a bunch of the same people you see all the time sitting in the chairs outside the audition room, some of which you’ve actually gone out for drinks with before. You’d actually met your roommates in this fashion, but all three of them feel they’re better than commercials at this point. You wish you could relate.

“Y/N!” a girl named Aubrey who you’ve talked to a few times before waves you over, motioning for you to sit beside her. You sit down and she smiles at you excitedly, “Karen from casting said you’re doing the whole housekeeping thing too! Who do you have?”

You swallow, noticing that every girl in the room seems to suddenly be paying attention to you, “Um, I’d rather not say.”

Aubrey nods, looking empathetic, “An asshole, huh? That’s too bad. Hopefully you get something good soon and you won’t have to do it anymore.”

You’re a little curious as to who Aubrey works for but not enough to ask. Instead, you take out your script and start silently mouthing the words to yourself just as the audition room door opens and the first girl gets called.

After about ten minutes of rehearsing, your phone rings. You pull it out of your bag to see who’s calling and your eyes widen when you see Keanu’s name lit up on the screen. You quickly turn it off and shove it back in your purse, hoping no one saw.

“Keanu?” Aubrey says, excited all over again, “Oh my god, are you working for  _Keanu Reeves_?”

All the heads turn toward you again, and you feel yourself turn bright red.

“Uh, yeah,” you say awkwardly, smoothing out the script in your lap, “But it’s really not a big deal.”

“How is that not a big deal?! It’s  _Keanu Reeves_! He’s like, the nicest guy in Hollywood!”

You wish she’d stop saying his name like that. You wish  _everyone_  would stop saying his name like that. The more people talk about him the way they do, the more and more nervous you get to actually meet him in person, and you  _hate_  that.

“I haven’t even met him yet,” you reply, shaking your head, “He’s shooting a movie, I don’t even know him.”

“He knows you enough to call you,” Aubrey says, not deterred at all, “You have him as  _Keanu_  in your phone, that’s so cute.”

Your eyebrows scrunch, “That’s his name?”

“Yeah but just the first name, no last name.  _Very_ casual,” she winks, “So what did –”

She’s unable to finish her question because the audition room door opens and one of the girls comes out, looking quite happy with whatever performance she gave. The woman holding the door looks down at a piece of paper and says your name.

“I’ll see you later, Aubrey.” You’ve never been so relieved to be called into an audition in your life.

—–

The audition doesn’t go well. The conversation with Aubrey gave you a nervous energy that you couldn’t shake, and the first thing said to you when you entered the room was, “Hey, you’re the girl from the Tampax commercial aren’t you?” which just made it worse because all you could think about was Jay and his Pepto Bismol nightmare.

You’d left the room without even looking at Aubrey, trying not to let your emotions get the better of you as you exited the building and climbed into the expensive car that you certainly didn’t feel very worthy of driving.

As soon as you get back to Keanu’s house you settle in front of the koi pond with some lunch and try not to feel sorry for yourself. Instead, you watch Cosmo fight over his food with a white and orange fish that seems to be bigger than the rest.

“Calm down, Godzilla, there’s more than enough for everyone.” you grab some more fish treats and toss them into the water to make them disperse.

Great, now three of them have names. You worry for a moment if Keanu will be bothered by that, but who are you kidding? According to literally everyone Keanu is the nicest guy in Hollywood; you can’t imagine he’d care that you liked his fish enough to give them names.

You’re suddenly reminded of the phone call at the audition, and you take out your phone to call him back. After a few rings with no answer, his voice is suddenly in your ear – you’re unsure why the sound of it makes you so nervous.

“Hey, it’s Keanu. Leave a message.”

“Hi, Keanu, it’s Y/N. I’m just returning your call, sorry I missed it,” you bite your lip, wondering if you should share where you were – I mean, he  _did_  say he wanted to know about it, “I was, uh, at that audition we were talking about last week. Didn’t go that great but whatever,” you cringe, “I mean, obviously it’s not  _whatever_ , I just mean… you know, it’s out of my hands, I guess.”  _Stop talking._ “Anyway, I’ll be home for the rest of the day so – I mean, I’ll be at  _your house_  for the rest of the day,”  _STOP TALKING._  “So just call me back when you get a chance. Okay, bye.”  _Idiot._

You shake your head at yourself and tear off a piece of lettuce from your sandwich, tossing it into the water and watching Godzilla gobble it up.

—–

You spend your evening lying on the floor of Keanu’s music room, resuming where you’d left off in his music collection. He really has got a bit of everything, but you can tell his tastes lie with punk rock and – surprisingly – jazz music, which couldn’t be more different. He’s got a framed photo of John Coltrane hanging on the wall, and someone has written “THE MAN!” in bright green sharpie along the bottom.

In fact, there’s a number of items in the music room that have been vandalized by a green sharpie, and you wonder if it was done by Keanu himself or someone he knows.

After listening to a few albums on his incredible sound system – and drifting in and out of sleep towards the end – you turn everything off and head to the guest room to get in bed. Music can solve problems temporarily, but as soon as your head hits the pillow your mind is flooded with anxious thoughts about what Jay had said this morning. Do you really want your legacy to be  _commercials_? You came to LA to be a serious actor, not a housekeeper who sells tampons.

And it’s not that you hate being a housekeeper – because surprisingly it’s probably the best job you’ve ever had – but living in this house is just a constant reminder of the success you still have yet to achieve.

 _But Keanu’s been working at this for over 30 years_ , you tell yourself, trying to calm your brain down,  _he didn’t get this house overnight._

You wish you could ask him for some advice, but he’s an ocean away – and besides, you barely know the man. Even the so-called nicest man in Hollywood can’t possibly be going around giving advice willy nilly to struggling actresses. He has more important things to do, like actually  _work._

Still, you can’t help but anticipate finally meeting him and getting to talk to him face to face. Maybe once he actually knows who you are he’ll be able to give you some words of wisdom.

_Or maybe he’ll hate you._

You shove your pillow over your head.

—–

When you wake up the next morning, there’s something different. You’re initially not sure what it is because you’re so groggy, untangling yourself from the blankets and slowly sitting up in bed. You take a few deep breaths, eyes hooded and tired – you didn’t sleep very well, your thoughts keeping you up for most of the night. You reach over and unlock your phone, blinking down at the screen and staring at it for a few seconds: 5:13 AM.

Your eyebrows scrunch.  _5:13?_  That’s almost an hour earlier than what your alarm was set for. Why the hell are you awake at 5:13?

And that’s when you hear it.

First, it’s just a faint shuffling sound, but it’s enough to make you freeze.

Then, a thud. Clear and distinct – definitely coming from another part of the house.

You’re suddenly wide awake, heart pounding in your chest as you spring up from the bed and stand still for a few moments, hand coming up to push your hair back as you stare at the floor and try and figure out what the fuck to do.

 _Maybe it’s someone he knows_ , you think to yourself,  _a friend who has a key. Or Jay, maybe it’s Jay._

Your mind is suddenly flooded with a news headline you remember reading when you’d done a bit of research a few weeks ago. You’d already known a lot about him, but you’d still done a quick google search to see if there was anything pressing you should know before taking the job. You remember it now, your stomach churning:  _Keanu Reeves’ Home Invaded Twice Within Three Days._

As far as you can recall it had been stalkers, and they hadn’t been violent. But they’d still  _broken into his house_. The idea of some random person rifling through Keanu’s house at this very moment while you’re literally a room away makes your stomach turn.

You unlock your phone and bite your lip, deliberating on whether or not you should call the police.  _What if you’re wrong and it really is just someone he knows? What if it’s the grocery people again?_ The concept of having police come to Keanu’s house over something completely harmless already has you feeling embarrassed beyond belief.

You decide to quietly take a peek before you make any rash decisions. Tiptoeing to the door, you slowly open it and silently thank the universe that it doesn’t make any noise. You slide through the opening and walk slowly and precisely down the hall, your socked feet barely making a sound against the floor. As you get further down the hallway, the noises get closer, and you’re able to recognize that they’re coming from the kitchen.

The sun is already rising so luckily you can see where you’re walking, and once you reach the end of the hall you press yourself against the wall and take a steadying breath.  _It’s okay, just take a peek. Easy peasy._

You slowly peek your head out past the wall to look into the kitchen, unsure what exactly you’re expecting to see. The moment you do this, your eyes lock onto the person standing in front of the kitchen island. The person pouring milk into a bowl of cereal. The person with long dark hair and scruff covering half of his face.

The person whose deep brown eyes are suddenly locked onto yours.


End file.
